


Blind Eye

by glacis



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-26
Updated: 2010-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-06 17:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Sentinel Too, both parts. My version of all those missing scenes, from the characters' perspectives (Alex, Jim and Blair).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Eye

Blind Eye, by Glacis. Rated PG13 for violence and language. No copyright infringement intended to Pet Fly et al. Spoilers for Sentinel Too (both parts).

 

"I think I know what's happening to you."

He looked so damned earnest. Pleading, almost. Like he could know what was wrong with me.

Nobody knew. Least of all myself.

The doors of the elevator closed in front of me, blocking out that 'let me help you' look. Such a sweet face. Such an innocent. I couldn't remember ever being that young.

If I had, Corona had made me grow up real fast. Solitary will do that to a person.

And what Corona had started, Karl had finished.

 

He met me at the door with a gun in my face. Totally uncool. His eyes were everywhere, hunted, frost cold. He scared me.

My Sentinel scared me.

Who'd've thought.

"I met this woman-" He wouldn't let me finish the thought. Distraction. Compulsion to share. Whatever.

"Chief, spare me the details."

So cold, man, too cold. "Okay, I'll tell you later." Talk to me, Jim. Don't shut me out, man.

"Whatever."

He walked away. Went up the stairs to his room. Left dinner to burn on the stove. What's up with that?

What's up with _him_?

 

"I can help you understand this … what you have is a gift."

Who does he think he's fooling? I looked in the mirror this morning, and saw what I see every morning. A woman hanging onto her sanity with her fingernails. Who knows. Maybe I am insane.

I had that dream again last night. I was running in the jungle, chasing a spotted jaguar. Off in the distance, keeping pace, there was a shady gray blur. Couldn't tell what it was. Can't paint it, or sculpt it.

Can't forget it, either.

The first time I realized I was different was in solitary. Dark, no clothes, no light, no human contact. They said I was uncontrollable. Well, what the hell did they expect? I'm slender, with nice breasts and blonde hair and long legs and I look like I'd be easy to take.

I'm not.

Cut her up. Kept her from taking me down. Broke both of her wrists then put out her eye before they could get to me.

When they finally let me out, nobody touched me.

They didn't need to. I could feel the pressure of the air on my body. Their eyes on my skin. I could hear what they said.

She's crazy.

She's no good, scary. Nuts. Psycho bitch.

Yeah, but nobody ever tried to take me down again.

And no one ever will.

 

"I'm going to have to bring them together in a carefully controlled situation."

I stared down at the palm sized tape recorder and wondered what the _fuck_ was going on in my life. Jim's weirding out. Alex was a viable alternative test subject, one of the sexiest chicks I'd ever seen, and more than a little scary for some reason I couldn't even pin down. Things were finally going right with my research, and all the sudden Jim turns into the Grinch who stole Christmas.

I can't help but feel a little pumped about all this. Who'd've thought, two full fledged Sentinels right here in my own backyard. Somebody somewhere must really dig my karma, because the pay off is gonna be abso-fucking-lutely incredible.

If I can just keep Alex's head from exploding, and Jim's temper from turning him into a grizzly with a thorn in his paw. Mixed metaphor, but lions are way too tame for the way he's been lately. Oh, well. All I can do is sit tight, be there for him if he _ever_ opens up, and see what I can do to help Alex. After all, it's what I do.

On the other hand, the day Jim Ellison voluntarily talks about what's eating him is the day I punch a permanent ticket for La La land.

Maybe I'll try one more time to crack the shell.

 

"Now that I'm finally starting to understand all this, I like it." I grin down at him. He's adorable, in a terribly intent sort of way. A geek, but a geek with a great voice and a kind heart. I can use that. And he's trying to help me. Maybe, maybe he's even succeeding. A little, at least.

"It's nothing to worry about. It's all good."

He sounds like he actually believes that.

For the first time in a long time, I let myself go just an inch, and I smile at him like I mean it. In that moment, I do. I ask him out to dinner, and he's flustered, but happy to accept. Funny thing. I don't think he's interested in my body.

I think he's interested in my headaches.

Strange feeling, being able to talk to a man and not have to play the usual games. Does this mean yes, does it mean no, how far to push, when to give. What to give up in order to make him do what I want him to do. When to stop giving, and start taking.

When I'm sure he's cleared the hall, can't hear his footsteps, the corridor's empty … I snoop around the side of his desk. Not much to see in the files, standard academic garbage, not that I'm knocking it if it'll help, and he seems to think it will. Over to his desk, poke a little, prod a few things.

Tapes.

Too many of them to just be about me, even though it does say Sentinel. Funny. Could be worth looking into, later, when there's more time. Can't right now, he'll be back in a second.

What the hell was that? A _growl_? Or a hiss, maybe? I look up through the glass, and see … not what I think I see. Not possible.

Blue eyes turning yellow, snarling at me, and something in me responds. I'm here, but I'm not, and I can't move. It's over in a moment.

My heart is racing in my ears, but I take a deep breath, go around to the door, crack it open. Just in time to see the back of a big man in casual clothes nearly run around the corner.

Strange.

Then the pain lances through my head, and I close my eyes and sag into the chair. By the time Blair comes back, energy pouring off him, calming me somehow, I'm okay. I'm okay.

I _am_ okay.

It's late by the time I get back to my apartment. Dinner was fun. Something about Blair relaxes me, refreshes me. I think it might be his attitude. He's so innocent, somehow. He's energetic, and enthusiastic, but he's not simple. He'll be talking to me, then suddenly, he's not there -- then he's back, with scarcely a pause in the patter. He intrigues me.

He also distracts me, which is why I don't hear Karl before he scares the shit out of me by rising up out of the chair in the darkness.

"I found someone who could help me … it was a chance meeting. He's an expert on people like me."

Ask me if I care about your approval, Karl. What have you done for me lately? Not a lot, actually, not in comparison with what I've done for you. But I need you for now. You're useful. I guess I'll keep you. For a little while, at least.

"After I get what I want, I'll deal with him."

Just as I'll deal with you.

Only with him, I may actually regret it.

 

I'm in total fucking shock. This sucks so bad it's not even believable. All my stuff, in boxes. _Labeled_. _Sorted_. Carefully _packed_ boxes.

He won't meet my eyes.

"I just need a little space. I feel like the walls are closing in … I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to analyze it. I just need you out of here by the time I get back."

And he's gone. Juking past me like a wide receiver going for the end zone. Not looking at me. Not really talking to me. Not hearing my protests.

Not seeing me.

It takes forever, not very long at all, but I schlep all my stuff down to the basement. No way in hell I can take this all to a motel. Even less in the realm of the possible that I can get it into a storage unit in the two hours my ex-roommate has given me to vacate.

Besides. I'm still hoping it's a momentary mental aberration, and I'll be able to move back in as soon as Jim gets his head out of his ass and starts acting like a human again.

The anger doesn't really cut it, though. He's not acting like he hates me, even if he won't look at me. It's more like … he can't stand to be around me. Like I make his skin itch.

He's running scared.

But scared of what? Not me. Can't be me.

Can it?

 

"It'll take a little practice, but we'll get it. It'll be good."

He looks a little rocky today, shadows under those big blue eyes, skin a little pale. His eyelashes look ridiculously long against his cheeks. I have the insane impulse to hug him. He just looks down.

Sort of like a puppy who's been put out in the rain and doesn't understand why. But he still has his enthusiasm, and it's catching.

The daffodils are lovely. And the smell … I've never tried to cut everything else out, and just focus in on one thing. For a bare moment, the scent wraps around my mind, and it's everything, there's no room for anything else, and it's … beautiful.

Then everything tips sideways in my head, and the smell starts to hurt. My eyes start to burn, like I'm inhaling toxic fumes, and it _hurts_. So much. I have to turn away from them, from the bright gold of the flowers, the colors hurting my eyes. From the disappointment in his face. I don't want to fail. For myself, but also for him.

But I do.

And it hurts.

 

Too much. Everything.

Had to make Sandburg go. He was pressing into me. Into my air. Part of me wanted to reach out and gather him up, hold on to him. Use him for an anchor.

The rest of me pushed him as hard and as far away as possible.

I killed him. Yeah, it was a dream. And I didn't know it was him. Who knew Sandburg was a wolf in another life? But it was him. And I shot him.

He looked at me as he died.

Can't take that.

Too many distractions. Can't protect him if I'm the threat. Had to make him leave.

So I could think.

Ever since the shootout in the grocery, something's been off. It wasn’t the jaguar in the back room, or even the one in Sandburg's office. It wasn't the weight I suddenly found on my tongue when I tried to talk to Blair. It wasn't even the fact that the voice that usually made me feel so much better now only reminded me of the growl of the wolf, the whine he gave as the light died from his eyes.

Blair's eyes.

It was everything. There was no room to walk. No room to think. No room to breathe.

Getting rid of his stuff wasn't enough. Took me half the night, but I cleaned the loft out, stacking everything right next to his boxes in the basement. I thought it would help.

It didn't.

I was watching the city when they came in. I recognized the accelerated heartbeat coming from Sandburg right off. He was upset, but I didn't know why. Connor was with him. They were distracting me.

"Something's going on out there, something very wrong. I've never felt anything like this before." The sirens raised the hair on the back of my neck, and I knew that whatever it was, it was going down right now. I wove my way between them and hit the stairs.

I didn't look back.

I was on the hunt.

 

"Concentrate. Block it all out."

I closed my eyes, hands to my temples, and heard the words as clearly as if Blair was standing right beside me on that fire escape. To my complete surprise, it helped.

There were shouts, curses below, and underneath the noise, I could swear I heard the snarl of a big jungle cat. A cry of frustration.

Something strange was going on here. How had they found me so fast?

Karl could wait. This was important.

No one stopped me in the corridors of the Anthropology building. The back-pack over my shoulder must have made the few people still hanging around that late think I was a student. Good thing they didn't know it was a laser cutter and not text books in my knapsack.

I kept my face averted just in case. Didn't want any stray witnesses coming back to haunt me.

The lock on Blair's office door was ridiculously easy. I located the tapes, popped the latest one in the walkman he had in the top drawer, and listened.

Another one.

A cop.

Jim Ellison.

I smiled to myself. My enemy had a name. A chill crawled over my skin, and I enjoyed the shiver. This could be fun.

He'd never catch me.

But he could try.

 

It wasn't possible. Alex couldn't be a criminal.

The way Jim's staring at me, you'd think _I_ was the criminal.

But it just isn't possible.

Okay, yeah, the response of the man … woman … person on the security tape does resemble Jim's reaction to an unexpected loud noise when he has his hearing dialed up. But … Alex?

Killing a guy?

"What the hell have you done. What the hell have you **done**?" Jim's words hit me like fists.

What the hell _have_ I done?

Brown looks so proud of himself. Alicia Bannister. No good from way back. Not bored, indeed, H.

I want to throw up.

Jim's not looking at me again.

Probably just as well. I have the strongest urge to rewind the last several days and try 'em again. With a hint of foreknowledge, thank you very much.

This is _so_ not gonna be fun.

 

Poor Blair. He looks devastated. Betrayed. Slightly abused. I wonder what Ellison did to him to put that last look on his face?

I play it cool. I have a lot of practice at that. It doesn't fool them, either of them, but then, I don't expect it to. Without evidence, they … Ellison doesn't have a damned thing.

Blair's lost his bounce. That makes me sad, a little. But it couldn't be helped.

Innocence never lasts.

I fling the door open in a wonderful grand gesture, and Blair shuffles out, looking achingly young. Ellison does his best to look tough. I grin at him. No teeth -- don't need 'em. He can see the growl in my eyes.

"I know exactly what you are, lady."

You think, detective. "And I know what you are, too. Welcome to the jungle."

My jungle.

 

I was so pissed I could taste it. Sandburg babbling in my ear wasn't helping. I didn't want to talk about the loft. Part of me felt guilty, tossing the kid out like that, but I couldn't listen to that, either. Not right now. His voice was still making my skin itch. Besides, something was really bugging me about all this. There felt like a pattern, somehow.

"What are the chances of two Sentinels appearing in Cascade, right, at this time, and falling in with you?"

His hands started flying and he started spouting something about karmic convergence, or some such New Age crap. I wanted to swat him. I wanted to kiss him.

I stopped thinking. Stopped breathing. Stared at him.

"-maybe it isn't chance! You know there are no coincidences."

Not now. Not here.

Not with him.

Not yet. Maybe not ever. But certainly not now.

I shut my mind off and turned on my senses. Even if I was going off my rocker, I still had a job to do. A sliver of sunlight reflecting off a dangling strand of gold caught my eye.

Gotcha. 

 

I didn't have Jim's sentinel senses, but I caught a whiff of … something … right before Megan forced Alex's door open. Then Jim was yelling, they were flying through the air, I was flat on my ass and the corridor was exploding.

What is it with me and explosions? Whatever it is, man, it's getting old fast.

Simon glowered at me in the doorway. Jim wasn't much help in deflecting him, as had become the norm in the last few weeks. I just shrugged and forged on.

"He's a Sentinel. She's a Sentinel. It could be some sort of challenge." He stared at me like I'd grown another head.

"What are you talking about, Sandburg? Some sort of duel?"

Don't laugh, Simon, weirder things have happened. On a weekly basis, felt like. "Exactly." Then Megan called, Jim shoved past me like I wasn't even there, and I once again played tag-along.

Wonder how long the silent treatment is gonna last. This can't keep up. Jim and I have _got_ to talk. Okay, I fucked up. But I'm willing to get past that. If he is.

Of course he is.

Isn't he?

Hanging around in the bullpen, hearing Simon say the Feds were tracking somebody who might be Alex to Colombia, I can't believe my ears when Jim blithely agrees to go along with Megan for dinner. Breakfast. Whatever. No way, man. We are _going_ to clear this up.

He still doesn't look at me. But at least he agrees to talk to me.

I just can't quite process what he's saying.

Do I think about what my research is good for? Of course I do! And so should he. Yeah, okay, so I got a little carried away with Alex … Alicia … whatever, but if it wasn't for the work Jim and I have done Jim would be in a _world_ of hurt right now.

Not that he sees it that way.

"I know who I am. I don't need you or anyone else to help me define that."

That hurts. More than I thought it would. So my betrayal of your trust struck deep, huh, buddy? Well, you’re not half bad at twisting the knife yourself. I can't keep this up. I'm suffocating here.

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get past this." My teeth hurt, I'm clenching my jaw so hard. Part of me wants to hit him. Part of me wants to bawl like a baby. And part of me wants to grab on to him, shake some fucking sense into him, break down that wall, crawl in and hold him. "But if you've got to hang on to it … you know where to find me."

Please.

 

I watched from the door of my office as Ellison tore strips off Sandburg, not quite believing my ears. Sure, I knew Jim was under stress -- and he'd been acting like a two year old whose pacifier had been taken from him lately -- but this … this was a bit much. Didn't know quite what to say, but I had to say something.

Asked him if he hadn't been a little rough on the kid. He cut me off. That pissed me off. I put every ounce of skepticism I had into the parting shot. "Do you think you could handle this Sentinel thing on your own?" 'Cause I sure as hell don't.

I left him stewing on it and walked out the door. Been a damned long day. I looked over my shoulder one last time before getting on the elevator.

Jim was still standing in the middle of the bullpen. Looked like he was carved out of stone. I closed my eyes and leaned against the back of the elevator.

Been a tough one. And I had a bad feeling it was going to get tougher before it got any better.

 

I had some loose ends to tie up, starting with Detective Ellison. It was fun to play with him a little, get him off balance, take some of the smugness out of him, toss him in the elevator shaft. Then that bitch cop … oh, excuse me, _inspector_ … had to show up and screw everything up.

No time for this.

My head was ringing, partly from her kick, partly from hitting the cement, and partly from all the goddamned noise in that place, but I held it together long enough to get out into the blessed quiet. The traffic was light on the way to the university, and I didn't get stopped, once again, as I made my way to Blair's office.

Oh, the look on his face when he saw me. The light went out of his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. I think he was expecting his friend. Too bad.

I felt an unexpected pang of regret when I drew my gun. I owed this man something. Not just cold death. "If it hadn't been for you, I never would have understood what I am. I owe you that."

He gave a spirited little growl about wasting my gift, but he was afraid. I could smell it, but I couldn't see it. Irrationally, perhaps, I was proud of him. He was a brave man.

"This is the one thing I really didn't want to do." I leveled the gun, and his eyes shut, involuntarily, I think. The silencer was on, there was no one around. All I had to do was pull the trigger.

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, and I could see the fine tremor in his hands as he held them up by his head. His lashes were fluttering, so faintly, as if he was trying to pry his eyes open but couldn't quite do it.

Neither could I. My finger uncurled around the trigger, and I took a deep breath.

"Get up."

His eyes flew open, and he stared at me in disbelief. His mouth opened. I raised the gun again.

"Don't say a word. Or I'll shoot you and leave you where you fall." At least it sounded like intent. He wasn't a sentinel. He couldn't see my finger was shaking.

This had never happened to me. I literally couldn't do it. But I couldn't leave him alive.

Could I?

I needed time. I gestured for him to get up, and he came around the desk warily. I waved the muzzle of the gun at him, and he preceded me out the door. Along the corridor. Down the wide steps. My brain was frantically telling my hand to shoot, and my hand was ignoring it. I had to do _something_.

The sound of the water rippling in a small pool across from the building caught my ear. Without thinking, going on instinct, I prodded him toward it. Standing at the edge, his body shielding my arm from any passers-by, I stared down at the calm surface of the pool. Breathed deeply, of his scent, and his fear, and acted before I could think about it.

He didn't make a sound as the butt of the gun connected with the back of his skull, although his hands spasmed instinctively into fists. He fell forward, the water supporting him gently, making his hair float around his head. His fists relaxed.

I stood, mesmerized, for no more than a second before I heard them.

Sirens.

My brain shut completely off, and I ran. I refused to think of the insane urge I'd felt to pull him from the fountain. He was just another loose end. He couldn’t be anything else.

Innocence be damned.

 

I've never been so scared in my life. Well, maybe with Lash.

Then again, maybe not.

At least with Lash I had _something_ I could use as a tool against him. I could talk to him. I could play with his mind, or what was left of it, and buy some time.

Alex wasn't selling.

Almost as much as I was scared, I was angry. Pissed as hell. I'd been so excited about helping this woman. Then she goes and turns into another Iris, only on steroids, 'cause not only is she a criminal, she's a perversion of a Sentinel. I expected her to fake a little sad look, pull the trigger, and splatter my brains across the bookshelf.

Instead, we went for a walk. I was impressed. My knees held.

For a few transcendent minutes, I felt like a sentinel myself. I could hear everything going on around me. The sunlight was incredibly bright in my eyes. I could smell my own sweat. I could literally taste my own fear.

And my tears.

Not that I'd shed them. The only thing I had left at that point was to die with some semblance of dignity, because I _knew_ I was dead. Then we were at the fountain, and I thought, yeah! Now! My chance, maybe she'll focus too hard on the water or the noise or whatever, and get a sensory overload headache, and I can hit her and take away the gun and … and … I taught her too well. She just prodded me in the back with the barrel of the gun until I was at the edge of the fountain, then --

WHAM.

My head exploded.

I had just time enough to protest, internally, that the water was going to taste like total shit, then I hit it.

Then I was in the jungle.

The jungle?

What happened to the light? The white place? Grandpa Mordecai and Aunt Emma taking my hand and leading me over the bridge? What do I get?

A dog.

No, wait, a wolf. And he looks more than a little bit pissed off.

He stares over his furry shoulder at me, like I'm supposed to be fluent in psychic wolfspeak and know by osmosis whatever the hell he wants. Then he takes off into the jungle, tossing these impatient little looks over his shoulder. What is this? The afterlife as a wilderness version of Lassie Come Home?

Of course I follow him.

Then there's this big black cat, a panther … no, a jaguar. I can barely see the striations of sable fur under the black overcoat. It's running toward the wolf -- toward me -- and we're running toward it, like some cheesy beach flick from the forties, where the long lost lovers run into full body embraces in slo-mo with the sun setting behind them, and everybody's hairdo stays perfect, even in the salt water.

Just that quick, between one loping stride and another -- BAM. I'm not following the wolf. I _am_ the wolf. And I'm heading for that jaguar at mach one. I leap, and he leaps, and we're heading for a major head banging collision here, man. The jungle as mosh pit.

Only we don't.

Oh, we hit, alright. But we don't collide.

We blend.

And in that moment of pure white light, for the first time in my life, I am complete.

Then I start coughing up a gallon and a half of pond water and nearly choke myself to death. Hell of a way to come back to life.

I can see Jim just beyond the shoulders of the paramedics working on me. Simon looks like he's about to cry -- that can't be right. Did something happen to Daryl? Megan looks like she just saw a ghost. And Jim … Jim is pale as a sheet, swaying on his feet. My hand reached out to him, looks like he needs a hand, you know, but the paramedic grabs it and they roll me over onto this stretcher thing and hoist me up and now I'm getting seasick on dry land and I can't reach Jim and I want to be complete again and everything. Goes. Black.

 

I don't know how I did that. Whatever _that_ was. Incacha showed up, and I saw the wolf again, only this time he was healthy again, no sign of the arrow. The cat was there. He growled. Loud.

So loud.

So quiet; no heartbeat.

But then I saw them leap, together, toward each other. Then a flash, and all I could see was Blair's heart. And it was moving. I was him. He was me.

I could feel the blood moving under the skin at his temples. The pulse was there. I dove back in and screamed something about his heartbeat to Simon, then concentrated completely on my partner. No fucking way I was going to lose him now.

I have no idea what I did.

Simon half carried me to his car, and we made it to the hospital, don't know how. Broke some land speed records, I'd bet. It was worth it. Walking into his room when they finally let me see him.

He looked good. The earrings were out -- must've had to take them out for x rays or something. I didn't know and didn't care. He was breathing. There was some color in his cheeks, healthy pink, not that pale blue he'd been when we'd pulled him from the water. I could still feel the laxity of his mouth under mine as I forced air into his lungs. His lips were cold.

My fingers wrapped up into fists to stop from reaching out and feeling his face, putting my mouth against his again, to make damned sure they weren't cold anymore. Happily, before I could make a complete ass of myself, my mouth opened and something about the rent came out.

He smiled at me. He got it. I wanted him to come home. And he understood. Then he started talking, and my heart skipped a beat.

The same vision. His wolf. My jaguar. Leaping together. Maybe … maybe I was reading too much into this vision thing.

"We are definitely there, my brother. C'mon in, man. The water's nice."

Deep voice, husky, inviting, edge of laughter under it. How can he laugh about it? Then the word hit.

Brother.

Shit.

"Chief, I don't know if I'm ready to take that trip with you." Not as a brother.

I had something a little more down and dirty in mind.

But first things had to come first. I bit the rest of it down, shoved it back in that nice dark closet I keep all the crazy thoughts in, and got back to work. I had to stop Alex. As long as she remained at large, she was a danger. Sure, because of the nerve gas. But most importantly to me … to Blair.

Relying on good old fashioned detective instincts, I tracked the bitch to her lair, and started looking around. Shortly after beginning to sift through the detritus that had been Alex Barnes' apartment, things got very weird.

I started seeing things. This wouldn't be all that unusual, actually. But the things were not jungles, or cats, or Chopec warriors -- all the things I was used to seeing that weren't actually there. These were centered on Alex. Her contact, a weasel from the look of him. And a beach.

Tossing a piece of shattered pottery aside, I took a second to analyze my reactions. Okay, as Sandburg might say, I was down with the possibility that I was getting psychic flashes from Alex. There was some sort of connection there. But it wasn't the connection I was expecting. There was anger, and some violence, mainly in regard to what happened with Sandburg. But there was this strong urge to protect, too. Take her by the shoulders, shake some sense in her, make her realize how wrong she was.

Oh, shit. I wanted to save her.

I shook off the thought, not liking where it was taking me, and went off to make my report to Simon. Looks like he and I were going on a little fishing trip.

Hoping for a barracuda. 

 

I didn't tell Karl that I hadn't killed Blair. Why bother him with details? We'd gotten away from the States, he'd made contact with Arguillo, and things were going very well.

Until he tried to cheat me.

I hadn't had a lot of respect for the man to begin with -- he tended to think he was much more important in the scheme of things than he really was, and he never missed a chance to tell me how little he thought of my part in our plans. But when he made a deal with the drug kingpin for five million, then told me with a perfectly straight face that it was for four mil, I realized he didn't have a clue just what I could do.

It was easy. A champagne toast, one last chance for him to come clean. I even gave him the perfect opening. "To equal partners." He just smiled at me.

Idiot.

So I smiled back, sipped the wine, opened my eyes wide in invitation. Angled my head for a kiss. Ran my hands around his neck.

Twisted.

Snap.

Changed into comfortable clothes. Packed. Took his cell phone and the canisters of VX. Walked out the front door and away to the car I had stashed behind the hotel.

I really hate being cheated. It pisses me off.

 

Walking back to the hotel room, I didn't expect anyone to be there. When I heard heartbeats, I drew my weapon and kicked in the door.

Sandburg.

Of course.

Oh, and Connor too. She was unpacking, he was resting. At least, I hope he was resting. He hadn't been out of the hospital three days. What the _hell_ was he doing in Sierra Verde?

I grilled 'em. Did no good whatsoever. Connor gave me some song and dance about clearing it with her superiors in Australia. Bet that would go over well with Simon. And Blair just looked at me, all big blue eyed innocence and bullshit a mile deep, and said he was just a 'concerned tourist.'

In that shirt, he could almost pull it off.

I gave up on arguing. Grabbed his hand and pulled him up beside me.

Warm.

I basked in it, for a second, I admit it. One of the reasons Blair's always cold is he gives off heat like a walking radiator. The only time he has ever been cold … is when he was dead. Now he's warm.

I swear to god I almost purred.

We got out of there. Fast.

Then things went from bad to worse, straight to hell in a hand basket. We dodged bullets over half the town before we dove into the middle of a church wedding, and when the wedding left the church, we stayed behind. I was exhausted.

Sandburg, of course, wanted to talk.

I couldn't find it in my heart to do much more than give him some gentle shoves toward the bench. I'd pushed him away too many times in the last few weeks. It was … good to have him back beside me, where he belonged.

He didn't talk about it, which in itself showed how much it meant to him, but what Alex had done had really hurt him. Blair is naïve. Not as naïve as he used to be, unfortunately, and a lot of that loss is because of hanging around with me. Getting shot at. Getting bombed. Getting beaten up and kidnapped and drugged and … shit. No wonder he was getting worn at the edges. Anyway, when he lets someone in and that someone turns around and knifes him, it really hurts. So I listened.

"God knows she doesn't want any interference. I mean, she already tried to kill me. Well, actually, I guess she **did**."

His face looked so sad at that. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. But I did sit up and talk with him. We went over everything we knew, which wasn't all that much, and I admitted for the first time that I was a little confused over Alex. All my training said shoot on sight. But my instincts, the ones I usually relied on to tell me right from wrong, were spinning all around the compass. I felt at a distinct disadvantage.

"That's our edge! These visions. You should be asleep, man, what are you doing, messing around with me?"

It dawned on him that we really _did_ need to get some sleep, and he batted me on the arm, practically shoving me down onto the bench. It took every ounce of willpower I own not to tell him just how I _would_ like to be messing with him, and bring him right over the back of the pew to join me. Gritting my teeth, I shut my eyes, and did my best to follow his orders.

 

We were on a beach. We should have been running _from_ one another, but we were running _to_ one another. He looked incredible, all sleek movement and bright blue eyes. When our hands met, something flared to life inside me, and everything doubled. Tripled. Quadrupled. I could see with my eyes, and with his. I wanted to absorb him. Devour him. Eat him alive.

The dream woke me up. It was almost dawn, and something was pulling me out of bed. I rummaged in the closet, impatient, clumsy. Pulled on my bathing suit and headed for the beach.

It was just like the dream. Only the intensity was even stronger, because it was _real_. His mouth covered mine, and my hands stripped his shirt away. We were drowning in each other. Then he stopped.

Someone else was there.

Blair.

So, I didn't kill him after all.

I muttered something to Jim about the two of us, and my hand pulled the gun from his holster. I transferred it over to my other hand smoothly, and pointed it at Blair. But in a repeat of what happened in his office, it felt like I was moving through deep water. My hand didn't want to aim at Blair, and my finger refused to pull the trigger. Then Jim was taking the gun away from me.

Turning from me.

Saying no.

It confused me. And it hurt. Hadn't he felt it? Hadn't he understood?

I turned from him then, and ran the opposite direction. Behind me, I knew he was raising the gun.

I knew he wouldn't fire.

 

I didn't know whether to take the gun away from Jim and shoot her myself or take it away from him and shoot _him_.

What the _hell_ was up with him? We're chasing a dangerous criminal with a penchant for killing people, myself included, and he goes wandering away from church camp in the middle of the night to go make out with her? Okay, it was morning already, but still.

He told me he couldn't help himself. I'm down with that. She's a babe. And she's a sentinel. And he's a little … conflicted. But geez. Get a grip, man. Then it hit me, what he was talking about. I tried to explain it to him.

"…a temple of light where Sentinels go to receive spiritual guidance … a grotto with magical waters where those who bathe in it would transform and they'd be allowed to see the eye of God."

Jim looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Okay, so primitive mating instincts were a little insulting to a twentieth century guy, but, man, there were times when my original theory of a throwback to a primitive state of being was right on the money. And I'd be willing to bet this was one of 'em. Seeing the unwillingness to believe in his eyes, I tossed out my final possibility.

"A doorway has been opened to beyond. I think you're being drawn back home." It was the only thing I could think of. And it sounded a hell of a lot better than 'your brain is shutting down and you're thinking with your dick.'

 

We tracked them to the river. There was a handy log not far from the meeting place, and Simon took one end, Connor beside him. I tucked Sandburg down as far as I could next to me, behind the meatiest part of the log. Had to keep him safe.

I heard the rotors on the helicopter before it was visible, and before the others did, of course. I automatically tagged Alex's heartbeat, plus one other coming from the chopper. The noise on the ground made it tough to sort things out by the river, but I concentrated, using my partner's filtering techniques, and was able to hear a little of what the drug runners were saying.

There was something wrong. There were too many heartbeats. And there was another sound. It didn't fit. Ratcheting. Metal on metal.

Piggybacking sight onto sound, I made the nest just as the concealed shooter was targeting. At least one submachine gun buried in a blind. Without thought, I screamed warning. "Alex! Get back! It's a trap!"

Her eyes met mine for a startled flash, then bullets were flying. She was a crack shot, and took down three or four before making it back to the chopper and yelling for him to take them out. Then the return fire got too hot, and I had to concentrate on my own aim. Dimly, I was aware of Megan's outraged squawk and Simon's deeper bellow, but the high whine of gunfire drowned everything else out.

When silence settled again, I looked back for my partner. "Chief? You alright?"

It took him a second to dig himself out from the burrow he'd made to get out of the way of the bullets. His eyes looked like dinner plates as he stared at me. "Yeah. I'm fine." He sounded pretty steady. Then his voice started to rise. "But **what** is **wrong** with you?!"

I will be goddamned if I know, Chief.

 

I can't believe it fell apart so fast. I should have expected a trap, but I never would have expected Jim to yell like that. To warn me.

To save my life.

There's a connection there. It's not just in my dreams, either. He could have let them spring that trap. Then he and the other cops could have come in and mopped up. But he didn't.

I was running on empty by the time the helicopter went down. The wild see-sawing motion tossed me out less than forty feet from where it finally crashed, and the pilot didn't survive. Just as well. I'm low on ammunition. This way I didn't have to waste a bullet I couldn't afford.

My hip hurt, and my ribs, where I'd landed on a rock. But I was alive. Of course, I was stuck in the middle of a jungle with no hope of rescue and no idea where I was. I knelt down at a small pool and splashed water on my face, grateful for the jolt. I was getting a little fuzzy. When I looked up, I nearly fainted.

A spotted jaguar was watching me.

He snarled, but for some reason I wasn't afraid. Then he turned and ran off into the jungle.

I knew that jaguar. Blair had told me what it was.

I followed.

It couldn't have been very long, or at least it didn't feel like very long, before I was startled again. I knew that statue, too. I laid one hand along its muzzle, and a shiver rocked me. "It's real!" I could see past the statue to an incredibly old pyramid, and I recognized that, too. "The temple of light."

A last surge of adrenaline took me up the stairs, only to leave me at the huge stone door. I shoved, along the edge, hoping to trip a latch of some kind, but it didn't work. Feeling at the end of my rope, I leaned against it, listening to my heart beating in my ears, one hand resting lightly on the pupil of the carved eye in the center of the door.

It opened.

 

I was trying to understand. It made no sense, but I was giving it my best shot. Blair sat beside me, huddled into a blanket, his thigh solid and warm against mine. Connor was wrapped in her own blanket, her breathing even and steady, heart rate stable. Asleep, I'd guess. Sandburg was running through what had happened so far, trying like hell to make some sort of sense of all the madness.

I stared into the fire. "I know we have to stop her, but I also feel like I have to protect her somehow."

Sandburg was quiet for a moment, then asked the tough question, like he always does. "Which one's stronger?"

I didn't have anything to give him but the truth. "I dunno." It had been easy when it was on my turf. When it was about my city, and my partner, and my 'tribe.' But it wasn't about that now.

I knew, had known from the tension in Alex's body when she couldn't pull the trigger on Blair, knew when she left him to be found, still alive, in the pool, that she couldn't actually kill my Guide. On the other hand, I knew that as long as she had the nerve gas, she was a threat to anyone and everyone.

I also knew that there had been something in her that I had responded to, and that she wasn't completely evil. There was something in there to save. And as long as I could reach that part of her, without endangering anyone else, I was bound to try.

Giving up on thinking, since it was getting me nowhere, I absently petted Sandburg and settled down to sleep. Since he'd joined me in Sierra Verde, I'd found that I couldn't relax enough to sleep until I made sure he was within touching distance. Unfortunately, also since coming to Sierra Verde, I hadn't had a single night's sleep that wasn't filled with visions.

Incacha came back. He looked great. He sounded funny, but hey, he was dead. Something's got to give.

He was just as oblique in death as he'd been in life. I knew he was trying to tell me something, and it was something important. But he couldn't just spit it out. That would be too easy. And _nothing_ about this sentinel stuff had _ever_ been easy.

"Power can lead to truth or corruption. You must choose your path."

How does a blind man choose in the dark with his hands tied behind his back? "How will I know the right path?"

"You already do."

Thanks a hell of a lot, Incacha.

The need to protect was strong, for my partner, my coworker, and my fellow sentinel, no matter how twisted up she was. I headed off before first light. Following the black jaguar into uncertainty.

Story of my life.

 

I was so incredibly pissed off I couldn't see straight. How could he _do_ this? Take off like this? Leave me to try to figure out what to do next? Leave me with Megan? … and her questions.

"Sandy, is Jim a sentinel?"

_FUCK_.

I just looked at her. This sucked. Big time. I had no idea what to say to her.

So I turned around and followed my Sentinel. I had no idea where I was going. I just knew I had to be there to help him, in spite of his continual need to ditch me like a bad date in a futile attempt to protect me.

Story of my life.

 

It had been so easy he had to have wanted it to happen. He was darted and out in less than a minute. I hefted him over my shoulder, grunting a little under his weight, and half carried, half rolled him down the steps and into the pool.

I really should have waited to knock him out until he was a little closer to the pools. But my impatience got the better of me. He had to see. Had to experience. Had to understand what I now understood.

Kneeling beside him, waiting for enough of the drug to dissipate so that he could understand what I was saying, I carefully mixed the herbs together with some of the pool water. I smiled down at him. I couldn't help myself. I felt wonderful.

All of my dreams, from the first horrific nightmares in the darkness of solitary confinement to the final burst of light that had allowed me to read the ancient language on the walls of this temple, had come together at last. It _finally_ made sense. I owed Blair Sandburg a debt of gratitude, and I was thankful I hadn't been able to kill him. If he hadn't opened my eyes to what my visions meant, I never would have been able to come here.

Home.

I owed Jim Ellison something too. An opportunity. To see the world as I now saw it. To finally understand what these heightened senses really _meant_.

To see the eye of God.

His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. I could see the need to move in his eyes, but it would do him no good. His body was still paralyzed. His mind, his senses, were free. This is how it should be.

He tried to talk me out of it. Once a cop, always a cop, I guess, even if it did get in the way of the important things in life.

"Alex, you're moving way too fast. This knowledge has to come from understanding." His eyes were pleading with me. He simply didn't understand. I did, at least partially. He would. Soon.

I tipped the cup at his mouth, gently washing off the spilled liquid, forcing him to drink. Once he saw, once he _knew_, he would come to me on his own. He would want this as much as I did. "I'll be back. After I've seen the eye of God."

Then, you will understand. And so will I.

Everything.

 

In my mind, my body was tensing, springing from the water, spitting out the nasty tasting crap she'd forced down my throat, hauling her back, holding her down, making her see reason. In reality, I lay there like a corpse whose muscles had rotted.

Fire struck.

My mind convulsed, trying to escape. Nowhere to go. I was back in the jungle, but the real jungle. Peru. Zeroing in on the patch that told me the reinforcements had _finally_ arrived. I could relax. Rest.

Fire hit me again.

Earlier in Peru. Hitting the flak that brought the chopper down. Plunging out of control. Shattered glass, jagged metal, blood everywhere. Digging graves. For everyone. Waiting to fall over into mine. Until the Chopec found me.

Holding Incacha as he bled out on my couch.

Watching Simon fall to gunfire. Megan, blood across her breast. Blair, falling, arm outstretched. Fingers empty.

I screamed. Screamed again. Again.

He was there. I tried to reach out to him, but my arms were lead weights under the water. Help me, Incacha. Please.

"The darkness will flee from the light. But the light must shine from within."

Blair!

"What do you see? What do you fear?"

Oh, Christ. Blair, being beaten. Tied up and beaten bloody. Falling under a bullet, blasted down by an explosion. Fire. Everywhere. Blair. Bleeding. Unconscious.

Dying.

"THIS IS NOT ME!"

My left hand rose from the water. I could see every individual molecule of water in the drop that fell from my index finger to the surface of the pool. My eyes hurt.

Moving like an old man, I dragged myself out of the pool. Alex lay in another, beside me. Her eyes were open but she gave no indication that she saw me. I reached for her, when I heard it.

Men. Guns. Rapid fire Spanish in a voice I recognized as Carlos Arguillo. The panicked patter of a heart beat I knew better than my own.

Blair.

For an instant, I froze, the need to protect Alex warring with the need to protect my partner. It was an unequal contest. I drew back from the pool, and went to war.

 

I could feel the air moving through my skin. Not merely against it, but through it, the pulse of blood through my veins, the movement of oxygen molecules throughout my body. I rose from the pool, and stared at those who shared my temple.

He was the first one I saw, and I smiled at him. He would understand. He, of all people, would understand. We were unique. "I'm home." Don't you feel it? "I can feel the vibrations of the earth itself." I have seen what no one else can see. Except you. "I can hear the clouds moving in the sky. I can see the molecules in a drop of water." See it, Jim. Share the wonder of it with me. "I want to share this with you."

Why was he fighting me? Resisting my words? Couldn't he see the incredible gift we had? Perhaps … perhaps he was blinded by the very flesh he wore. He couldn't see above, beyond, because he was trapped in the present. I reached for the canister. I could take care of that. When he was beyond the physical, as I yearned to be beyond the physical, then he would understand.

He barked at me. A command. Followed by sweet persuasion. "We're here to watch over and protect people." Oh, Jim. We are so far beyond that. Come to me. Share this with me. Then you will understand.

He came to me, then. His hands touched mine, and he drew me close. An endearing movement, he kissed the tip of my nose, then opened his mouth over mine. We connected at every level, from the physical down to the soul. I sank into it, into him. We were one.

The world erupted in flames.

My skin exploded, fire searing me, tearing me away from him. I screamed, I think, I can't tell, all I knew was the need to escape from my own skin. The blood I'd felt moving through the layers was liquid fire, and it was unbearable.

My attention shifted as twin spikes were driven through my ear drums. I could hear the membranes rip apart, as my hearing magnified every sound to equally unendurable levels. I opened my eyes, searching for Jim, and all the colors of the spectrum attacked my sight. I felt my eyeballs erupt, hissing and sputtering as the fluid fell into the fire of my skin. I screamed, once, high, wailing, crying out to God to stop the agony, to look at me and help me.

God's eye was blind.

As was I.

 

Jim was shivering. Little quivers were running all up and down his body, in spite of the blanket I'd draped around him. I hovered, feeling useless and totally needed at the same time. He stared up at me, asking me why, his eyes desolate, reaching out to me. I stood as close to him as I could without crawling in his lap, or pulling him into mine.

"That's the difference between you two," I finally offered. "She lost her way."

You never will. Because you know your path, in your heart. Because you have a Guide. And you're in my heart.

C'mon in, Jim. The water's nice.

 

** _finis_ **

** **


End file.
